Arya and Dhanudanda slammed into the enemy lines with the force of a tidal wave. Dhanudanda, wielding his heavy gada, sent men tumbling and flying, smashing shields and cracking bones. Arya moved with precision, his blade slicing through openings in the enemy's defenses. But Raktapasu's men held firm, their shields locking into an unbreakable wall. Attack after attack rained down upon them, yet they stood resolute. The Kavach formation held strong.
Nearby, Eknandini and Kritipal engaged in a fierce assault against Parashar and his men. Parashar parried their strikes with practiced efficiency, his movements both precise and powerful. The twins, Rudra and Raghav, wove through the chaos, exploiting every weakness they could find. Blood stained the battlefield, cries of pain and the clash of steel filling the air.
Arya knew that brute force alone wouldn't be enough to break Raktapasu's wall. He stole a glance behind him. Parashar met his gaze. The message was clear.
The green flag went up.
A thunderous roar erupted from their ranks.
Enter the Kaalrath.
Soldiers instinctively parted, creating a clear path. The dark warrior advanced with a chilling grace, their obsidian-like scaly skin shimmering under the morning sun. With movements as swift as shadows, he lunged toward Raktapasu's wall.
Raktapasu, standing at the front, understood the challenge immediately. He barked an order, and his men suddenly pulled back, opening a gap in their own defense.
An invitation.
The Kaalrath surged forward. But as he entered, the entrance behind them sealed shut.
A trap.
Raktapasu grinned, slamming his heavy mudgar into the ground before drawing two short, curved swords from his sides. He rolled his shoulders, his movements eerily confident.
The Kaalrath stepped forward, accepting the challenge. He towered over Raktapasu, wielding a massive two-handed sword.
Then, they moved.
The duel began in a blur of motion. The Kaalrath swung his enormous sword in a deadly arc, aiming to cleave Raktapasu in half. But Raktapasu dodged, his agility surprising for a man of his build. He ducked low and slashed upward, his blades seeking weak points. The Kaalrath twisted, avoiding a fatal strike but feeling the sting of steel against his side.
Blades clashed in a deadly dance. The Kaalrath's sword struck the ground, sending dirt and stone flying. Raktapasu countered with rapid strikes, aiming for the soft spots beneath the arms. His small swords were quick, designed for speed rather than brute force.
A feint. A dodge. A deadly thrust.
Raktapasu rolled beneath a sweeping slash, driving one of his blades deep into the Kaalrath's foot. The dark warrior let out a guttural growl, stumbling slightly. But before he could recover, Raktapasu was already behind him.
With a brutal twist, he wrenched the Kaalrath's arm behind his back. The warrior thrashed, but Raktapasu was relentless. With precise aim, he jammed his second sword just below the Kaalrath's shoulder, right into the vulnerable soft skin Eknandini had described.
A sharp cry of agony escaped the Kaalrath's lips. He faltered, his massive form sagging under the weight of his wounds. Blood seeped from the wounds, staining the ground beneath them.
Raktapasu stepped back, savoring the moment. The Kaalrath, still clutching his sword, tried to rise, his other hand pressing against his wounds for support.
Raktapasu grinned wickedly.
With a flick of his wrist, he sliced across the Kaalrath's fingers, severing them cleanly. The sword clattered to the ground. The Kaalrath knelt, gasping, his strength failing him.
Circling his fallen opponent like a predator, Raktapasu twirled his blades in his hands, taunting him. The battlefield seemed to blur around them—all eyes were on this moment.
The Kaalrath lifted his gaze, his glowing eyes burning with defiance.
But Raktapasu struck before he could react.
With a single, swift motion, he drove both blades deep into the Kaalrath's eyes.
A piercing scream filled the battlefield. It was unlike anything the soldiers had heard before—a death wail so terrible that it sent chills down the spines of even the most hardened warriors. The Kaalrath convulsed violently before collapsing into the dust, lifeless.
A hush fell over Parashar's army.
The impossible had happened.
A Kaalrath was dead.
Raktapasu had slain a legend.
The battlefield shifted. Murmurs of fear rippled through Parashar's ranks. The Kaalraths were thought to be unstoppable, their presence a psychological weapon as much as a physical one. But now, their aura of invincibility was shattered. If one could die, more could follow.
The hesitation was evident. Some soldiers stepped back involuntarily, gripping their weapons tighter.
Arya's jaw clenched as he saw the shift in morale. The battle had changed. Raktapasu hadn't just won a duel—he had struck fear into their hearts.
Beside him, Dhanudanda's breathing was heavy, rage radiating from his entire being. His massive fists tightened around the handle of his gada.
He turned to Arya, his voice like a growl.
"Arya!" Dhanudanda bellowed. "Take me to Raktapasu. Now!"
The battlefield erupted once more as Arya and Dhanudanda charged forward, their sights locked on the monster who had just slain the unthinkable.
The real battle had just begun.